


The Cost of Freedom

by Measured_Words



Category: Adventure World (game)
Genre: Animal Play, Community: kink_bingo, Control, Divorce, Dominance, F/M, Guilt, Homophobia, Internalized Kink Shaming, Jealousy, References to Dubious Consent, Sexual Fantasy, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/pseuds/Measured_Words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jacinthe didn't miss Vedran, but she missed the power, and she missed her pet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cost of Freedom

The Cost of Freedom

It was impossible for Jacinthe to remain completely ignorant of Vedran's new relationships. No one had been so crude at to tell her about the developments with Mr. Harrowden, but she had pieced it together from observations – from things that went unsaid, from nervous looks of the servants. How long had it taken him to find someone to indulge his base desires? How long before he'd needed it? She couldn't quite imagine the physical details, and found it distressing when she realized it had even occurred to her to try. The fascination was perverse.

When he remarried, Jacinthe had assumed it meant the end of that liaison. But she'd seen Harrowden dancing closely with Lady Aethelin and that the two shared their own fond smiles. Vedran seemed as close as ever with both. This also should also have been beneath her notice, and certainly beneath her concern. How was it that she could so deeply feel the sting of losing something she had never wanted in the first place?

Jacinthe didn't want Vedran – not really. The moment she'd seen the signed divorce papers, she'd been overwhelmed by relief, a release of pressure as if something that had been squeezing her heart, her lungs, her skull, had suddenly released its grip. That had been the first, and only, time she'd really cried over the whole ordeal, wracking sobs that had shaken loose the last lingering tension until she felt she might have completely come apart. Since then, she'd felt free. Lord Jesseryn had made it clear that there were no immediate plans for her own remarriage – she suspected he would not raise the issue until well after her son was grown. Her life was, for the foreseeable future, her own. 

What Jacinthe wrestled with still was the cost of her freedom. Her secret heart, the part that scared her, missed the power she'd had over him, to make him into something she could more easily disdain. To make him want to be transformed for her pleasure. It was frightening to admit, even to herself, that this was something she'd encouraged, even desired, but her feelings no longer let her cling to the lie that she had only ever been a good wife, and had only indulged his needs when he came to her. She could no longer pretend, even to herself, that it had ever been what he'd wanted.

The admission terrified her, but more terrifying was the persistence of her desires. She wanted to show them – him, his lovers, the rest of society – what her secret heart knew him to be, what she had made him become. She wanted to silence him, to have him put on his tail, his ears, to dress him in his collar, snap a leash on him, parade him around in front of everyone so they would know just what an animal he was. Maybe she would make him eat for them, out of his bowl, or simply keep him to heel as she went about her business, so that they might marvel at her control of his animal savagery. He would be terrified and ashamed, but aroused, she was certain, by his submission to her power. Everyone would know.

In her fantasy, he would be the only one judged. In reality, she locked away the desires of her secret heart, never to speak of them, knowing how reviled she would be if they were known. But she couldn't give them up, not completely, nor could she help herself from grasping at that old power. It took so little – the right word, a touch, even a look – whenever the tides of society brought them together, to remind Vedran of what he was. A blush, a nervous glance, a flustered word – these were all she needed to feel that little rush, and to know her power over him still held.


End file.
